I really do not know why God gave us coffee, but I do know God's character is of such a nature that it never diminishes His ability to bless me each day.

This week I came face-to-face with a genuine dilemma. I had several
meetings across town and for some reason I miscalculated and ended up
with a 2-1/2 hour gap between meetings. I hate to waste time, but if I
drove back to my office, I would simply have to return to my meeting
later and with the cost of gas these days, one cannot be too cautious.
You know gas is getting high when it costs more to fill up the car than
the car is really worth. The most valuable thing in my car is in my gas
tank, at least when it is filled.
I remedied the situation by stopping in a small coffee shop for cup of
Joe. As far as I am concerned, there is no bad time to have a cup of
coffee, in spite of the price. I ordered my coffee and when the
waitress brought it to me, I began to think about coffee. Why did God
give us coffee?
Then my mind went back to my grandfather, whose greatest gift to me was
a love of coffee. Nobody loved coffee more. I remember one of his
favorite quotes, "You can always tell a man by the coffee he drinks."
Anathema to my grandfather was the idea of instant coffee. No man, in
his judgment, would ever drink anything of the kind. "If a man would
drink instant coffee," my grandfather perked, "there's no telling what
else he would do. Never trust a man who drinks instant coffee."
Making coffee was an art form to my grandfather. There was a right way
and a wrong way to make coffee, and he always insisted on the right
way. Of course, the right way was the way he made coffee.
In grandfather's kitchen was an old wood-burning cook stove. On this
old-fashioned stove, my grandfather brewed his famous mud broth. He
never allowed my grandmother to make the brew; it was his job, which he
took seriously.
Once for his birthday, we all chipped in and bought him an electric
coffee pot. I had never seen my grandfather so mad. When he saw what it
was, he would not even take it out of the box.
He had strong ideas about coffee and how it should be brewed and woe be
to the person who contradicted his ideas.
Grandfather always kept a fire in the old wood cook stove and on the
back of the stove he kept his coffee pot, a large 2-gallon pot — one of
those old-fashioned percolators long since gone out of style. The
coffee was always on, and no matter when you stopped in to see him, he
always had "fresh" coffee brewing.
When I say, "fresh,” I need to explain. Actually, the coffee was only
fresh on Sunday. On Saturday night, he routinely emptied the coffee pot
and prepared fresh coffee for Sunday morning.
He had an old coffee grinder and ground the coffee beans on Saturday
night. He put some other things in the coffee, I have never figured out
what. One thing I know he put in was a crushed eggshell. What it did to
his coffee, I have no idea but grandfather was sure it was an important
ingredient.
The freshly ground coffee beans were put in, the pot filled with fresh
water and set on the back of the stove to slowly perk. This coffee
would last the entire week. The coffee was so strong on Sunday that if
it did not wake you in the morning, you were dead.
In fact, Cousin Ernie died on a Sunday afternoon, so my grandfather
tells the story, and one sip of his black coffee roused him and he
lived seven more years, which was unfortunate for grandfather, as he
had to support him.
Before going to bed each evening my grandfather took care of his coffee.
He would freshly grind a few coffee beans, sprinkle it on top of the
old coffee grounds and then add a newly crushed eggshell. Then he would
refill the coffee pot with water.
His coffee percolated 24/7 and by Saturday it was so strong you needed a
half-cup of sugar just to drink one cup. It was thick enough to use as
syrup on your pancakes, but so strong, it dissolved your pancakes
before you could eat them.
My grandmother once tried washing the coffee pot. When my grandfather
saw her, he became furious, "Never wash that coffee pot," he spouted,
"you'll ruin its character and a coffee pot needs a lot of character to
make good coffee."
When my grandfather died, I looked at his old black coffee pot and
discovered two things. One, the original color was blue. And two,
although it was originally a 2-gallon pot, it only could take three
quarts of water. The "character," so important to my grandfather, had
built up so much over the years its capacity was diminished.
In pondering my grandfather, I thought about my Heavenly Father and His
gifts. The Bible puts it this way; "Every good gift and every perfect
gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with
whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning" (James 1:17 KJV.)
I really do not know why God gave us coffee, but I do know God's
character is of such a nature that it never diminishes His ability to
bless me each day.
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